


to be loved (and to be in love)

by trippingtozier



Series: you and i (we don't want to be like them) [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, and ben's the security guard ig, bev and eddie are just fans of the band, richie n' bill n' mike are in a band?, stan is the rly overdramatic manager, wow richie and eddie somehow fall in love?!?! Can you believe?!?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-09 19:28:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 17,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trippingtozier/pseuds/trippingtozier
Summary: The paparazzi's camera flashes through the night, lighting up the odd angle of Richie's face, exploding like lightning in the air between them.Suddenly Eddie understands that these pictures are so much more than just pictures.To the magazines, they're a new cover story. To the fans, they're proof of a new romance.To him, they're now a threat to life as the way he knows it.





	1. music of the night

**Yo Eddie, u up?**

The chatbox window blinks gray to blue, pulsing like a heartbeat. Eddie taps his fingernails against the keyboard, listening to the tiny sound they make, like water dripping from a faucet. He’s turned read receipts off, so if he decides not to answer, Beverly won’t know he’s been lurking.

His phone screen is bright, bathing his room in an unnatural light.

Inability to sleep gets the better of him. He types, _no._

**Yeah, right.**

**Okay.**

**So, just wondering if u’d heard who’s in Derry rn approximately 2.2 miles from your house?**

_Ummm I don’t know_

_Who?_

**…**

**Wait for iiiiiiiiiiiittttttttt**

_I’m waiting_

**Richie Tozier**

**Bill Denborough**

**Mike Hanlon**

**That cute bodyguard named Brent or Ben or something**

**And their mANAGER**

_Hahaha wait_

_You’re telling me The Losers Club is in Derry?_

**Yes**

_Like, the ultra famous band who made it big after performing at a Jewish thing?_

**A Bar Mitzvah, and yeah**

_You’re kidding_

**I am not**

_Why tf are they in Derry, of all places?_

**Idk, but I wanna find out**

**Can we go to the motel they’re staying at tomorrow??**

_I don’t know about that_

**What? Why not :(**

_A shit ton of fans are probably already there_

_Like, why go wait and stand around in the stupid summer heat? Just so I can get my own blurry picture of Richie Tozier’s hair?_

**Awh c’mon Eddieeeeee**

**:(((**

**I rly wanna know if something’s rly off w them or if it’s just management stirring up drama**

_You know it’s management_

_Stan’s notorious for making something out of nothing to cover their asses or get more publicity_

**Yeah, but**

**I’m just sayin’**

**We should go**

**N’ stand under their windows**

**N’ serenade them w our sweet, sweet voices**

_Yeah, uh, they’d probably call the cops on us_

**Totally worth it**

**Oh!**

**Also,**

**Party at Greta’s tomorrow night**

**U in?**

The chatbox blinks again: dark and blank.

_I’ll let you know,_ Eddie sends, and turns his phone off before he can see if Bev responds.

His room is dark now.

A restless wind is blowing through his window, strange and humid and hot.

Eddie gets up to shut the window, peering through it as he does. The moon overhead is white, pure and full. He watches a lone black car drive up his quiet street. Probably a neighbor coming home late from some party.

Usually he loves the quiet familiarity of his room, but something about the wind makes it seem suffocating. Instead of feeling sheltered, Eddie looks from wall to wall and thinks, _am I trapped?_

The idea of being trapped unsettles Eddie so much, that he acts without thinking. He pulls an oversized sweatshirt over his pajama top and slips his feet into a pair of sneakers. It’s easy to shuffle downstairs, past his snoring mother who fell asleep watching late night television, and slip out the back door.

This is the first time in all eighteen years of his life that he’s snuck out of his mother’s house.

The night air feels enormous around him. The wind seems to whisper that freedom is in his reach.

He goes around to the front of the house, but the street is empty and suburban and still. Eddie feels a little ridiculous; he’s being absurd by imagining something out here calling to him, like he’s special, like the night and the freedom mean something.

The wind picks up; surging up the street and towards the dead end. Eddie lets it push his legs out in front of him and he follows its path.

Everything looks different this late at night. He blinks at the few houses that still have lights on, wondering who’s up and what they’re doing. Do they feel trapped too?

The black car he saw earlier is parked at the absolute end of the street, where there’s no houses, just overgrown bushes on abandoned property. Beyond the bushes there lies a miniature forest. Eddie and Bev used to play there when they were kids; imagining that they were fearless hunters. They stopped hanging out there after Bowers club designated it the spot to get high.

Whoever’s there now isn’t doing that, though. Eddie can tell the difference between the sickly skunk smell of weed and the ashy tar of cigarette. The driver is the one smoking, sitting on the hood of the car, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his eyes, shielding his face from prying eyes.

Eddie’s sneakers are almost silent on the asphalt, but the stranger is jumpy. He whips his head around as Eddie stares towards the end of the street, flicking his hood back to get a better look and then pulling it back down before Eddie has time to breathe.

He’s fast.

But not fast enough to stop Eddie from seeing.

And recognizing.

Eddie almost can’t believe he didn’t guess it from the slope of his shoulders and the curve of his fingers around the cigarette. He’s seen them thousands of times in photographs, and interviews, and torn out magazine photos he hides in his locker. He was talking to Bev about him just a short while ago.

Richie Tozier is sitting and smoking on the hood of his (probably rented) car.

He shifts nervously under the weight of Eddie’s shocked gaze. He flicks his cigarette twice, and then lets it fall, sparks lighting up the pavement. He pulls the hoodie back to rake a hand through his hair. There’s a split second where he hesitates, and decides. When he pulls his hand away, the hood falls with it.

His shoulders uncurl and his spine straightens as he breathes deeply.

He steals another glance at Eddie, but this time, he lets him know that he’s looking.

“Sorry,” Eddie calls. His voice is thin. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s a public street, I guess.” His voice is low and rough and familiar, something he’s heard many times.

Eddie feels electrified by Richie’s presence, crazy with boldness. Richie watches him step off the sidewalk and cross towards him. He doesn’t tell him to stop.

“You want one?” he asks, holding the pack of cigarettes out to Eddie.

He’s just as handsome as he is in all of the pictures that circle around, pale skinned and beautiful, fine-boned and thin, with a thousand tiny freckles that decorate his cheeks.

“No thanks. Those things’ll kill you.”

Richie looks at Eddie oddly for a second, before taking one out of the pack for himself.

A breeze blows by them, stirring the smoke from Richie’s cigarette. He says, “It’s a weird night.”

Eddie nods.

“So, are you visiting Derry?” he asks.

Part of him thinks it’s dishonest to not tell Richie that he knows who he is, but he doesn’t want to break the spell between them.

“Yeah,” Richie says. “I’m just visiting for a few days, me and… some friends.”

He smiles sideways at him through the darkness.

He’s never been Eddie’s favorite of the Losers- he loved Bill first. Richie always seemed too obvious. Even people who didn’t care about The Losers Club knew he was the most beautiful one.

Now, just a few feet from him, Eddie can admit to himself that he can see the attraction.

Richie looks around. “Derry seems… small.”

“It is small.”

“You grew up here?”

“Down the block. I’m leaving for college in the fall, though.”

“Getting the hell out of here.”

“Yeah.” Richie is surprisingly easy to talk to.

“Are you in college?”

“Nah,” Richie says. “I got a job that involves a lot of traveling instead.”

Richie’s two years older than Eddie is. He turned twenty in March at a party at a club in New York. Eddie remembers looking through the pictures: blurry fan pictures, videos by his bandmates, paparazzi shots. He lingered longer on the professional photos of Richie’s girlfriend, a TV actress named Sabrina, holding a cake with perfect frosting and edible flowers, blowing him a kiss as he blew out the candles.

Richie stubs his cigarette out on the car hood.

Another car slides up the block.

“Shit,” Richie mutters. He flinches away from the headlights, but there’s nowhere to hide.

The car pulls to a stop beside the two. The person driving aims something large and black out the window. Eddie registers that it’s a camera right as the flash goes off. He turns away just fast enough to keep from being blinded by it.

“I’m so sorry,” Richie says. “You should go.”

Eddie is frozen. Who found them here? Did they follow Richie?

“Seriously,” he says. He reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm. “This is about me. If you go, they won’t follow you.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. He doesn’t know why he’s apologizing.

“No, I’m the one that should be sorry about whatever happens tomorrow.”

“What-”

“You’ll see.”


	2. photograph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!!  
> Can't wait to get fat from all the candy I'm gonna buy on sale after this !!

Eddie doesn’t have to go looking for the pictures in the morning. By the time he wakes up, Bev’s blown up his phone with caps-locked text messages.

**EDDIE**

**WAKE UP**

**EDWARD**

**EDUARDO**

**ED**

**EDD**

**EDDIE**

**GET UP RIGHT FUCKING NOWWWW**  

**RICHIE FUCKING TOZIER WAS MIDNIGHT STROLLING AROUND DERRY LAST NIGHT**

**W A DUDE** ****

**WHO LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE YOU** **  
**

**WHAT DOES SABRINA THINK?**

**WAS THAT ACTUALLY YOU?** **  
**

**WHERE WAS BEN, PROTECTOR OF THE SMOLS???**

**EDDIE UR KILLING ME HERE**

_Wait_

_What’s going on?_ He types into the chatbox, like he doesn’t already know.

Bev sends him a link.

The pictures look real in a way he wasn’t expecting them to.

The lead photo on the story is Richie touching his shoulder, telling him to go. Eddie’s turned towards him, away from the camera. You can just barely make out his profile, his skin a tan contrast next to Richie’s paleness. The way they’re standing makes it look like Richie’s trying to protect him, like the two of them aren’t strangers at all.

_There have been reports of trouble in paradise lately, and it doesn’t look like sailing is getting any smoother for boyband heartthrob Richie Tozier, 20. The Losers Club’s tour bus ended up in Derry, Maine yesterday morning after the cancellation of several upcoming concert dates._

There are a few photos of the boys getting off the bus; all of them have big sunglasses on. Mike is carrying Stan’s travel bag. Eddie smiles at that. The two of them are so sweet to each other.

_Rumors about Richie’s out-of-control partying and relationship problems are coming to the surface. He seems to be trying to fly solo these days, but manager Stanley Uris, 22, denies that that’s the reality of the situation. “We wouldn’t be The Losers Club without Rich,” Bill Denbrough tweeted when these rumors were brought to his attention. (Awwwww!!!)_

_As if this wasn’t already enough, Richie’s long-time love, TV sensation Sabrina Hearth, was spotted partying in New York City with her ex, co-star Patrick Hockstetter, a few nights ago. Apparently Richie’s giving her a taste of her own medicine! He’s pictured below with a mystery man. Sources say…_

The words seem to blur together. Eddie scrolls to through the pictures. Most shots are blurry ones of the two of them chatting. His face is mostly a shadow, almost impossible to identify. The captions below the photos are suggestive: “ _Intimate get together” “Reunion with former love interest” “Late-night rendezvous”_.

Eddie closes the tab.

Bev’s last text just reads, **???????**

_Yeah_

_That was me,_ Eddie admits.

**HOLY SHIT EDDIE** **  
**

**Y DIDN’T U TEXT ME????**

**Y DIDN’T U CALL ME????** **  
**

_I don’t know!_

_I was tired_

_And confused_

**We HAVE to go to the motel now!!!!!!**

_And risk being recognized?_

_No thanks._

_I’d rather listen to my mother’s lecture on the dangers of leaving a papercut uncleaned_

**Bitch**

_I’m not going_

**fine.**

**but I hate u.**

_Mhm._

**I’m picking u up at 9:30 for Greta’s party.**

_Thank u Bevvvvv <3 _

**Edward**

**If ur little scandal w Richie makes it harder for Mike and Stan to come out, I will kill u**

**Got it?**

_Mhm :)_

Eddie reopens the tab with the pictures and scrolls to the ones of Stan and Mike unboarding the tour bus together.

They’re just so pure and precious together.

He opens up Instagram and scrolls through his dashboard. The pictures from last night are plastered across the explore page. There are two types of people reacting so far: those who are wondering WHO IS HE and HOW DARE HE, and those who are his defenders.

He closes all of his apps, and turns his phone to do not disturb.

Then, Eddie stares at the wall, letting the unfamiliarity of the situation sink in.

He can hear his mother shuffling downstairs, and he knows she’ll be upstairs any minute to wake him up.

He turns to swing his legs out of bed, now facing his door. A poster of Ryan Gosling stares at him.

“I met Richie Tozier last night. And it was, um, it was pretty cool.”

The poster doesn’t say anything back.


	3. mad behavior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am??? so?? ready for?? Stranger Things Day??

Greta’s party is loud. And crowded. And most definitely a health hazard.

When Bev and Eddie walk in, Greta’s sharing a joint with some guy while her clique all drink a mysterious liquid from the same red solo cup. 

The house smells like sweat and booze. Two of Eddie’s least favorite things.

He’s pressed against the wall, holding two cups, waiting for Bev to come back from the bathroom when Greta approaches him. She’s not wearing her usual scowl, so Eddie’s completely clueless as to what she’s going to say.

“Hey fairy.”

“Hi Greta.”

“You like that dumb band that’s in town, right? The Losers Club?”

Oh god, she must’ve recognized him from the photos.

Eddie swallows, his throat thick. “Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“I got someone you’re gonna want to meet.” Greta turns around, scanning the crowd of people in her living room. “Ben! Ben?”

And before he’s ready for it, for the second time in two days Eddie is face to face with someone from the internet.

“Hey!” Ben pops up next to Greta’s side.

There are girls online who are obsessed with his smile, which is warm and genuine. He directs it at Eddie and cocks his head at him. “You’re Eddie, yeah? Greta mentioned that you and your friend were fans of The Losers Club.”

“Greta, what the fuck?”

“Eddie had pictures of Bill hanging in his locker way back when.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn.

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.”

Ben is grinning like all of this is totally hilarious to him. “So you’re not a fan anymore?” he asks.

“I’m- I don’t know. I mean, I listen to their music still, and follow them on Instagram, but I don’t know.”

Eddie tries to remember what a normal, former fan would ask. It’s hard to remember what he is or isn’t supposed to remember. Also, he wants to know  _ everything _ . “So, uh, what do you do for the band?”

“I’m a bodyguard, technically,” Ben says. “But I’m more like an assistant. It’s like I’m constantly helping a tornado. A six-armed, six-legged tornado, because the guys are always together and they’re always getting into shit or needing something. Like, for example, someone introduced Mike to Pizza Hut breadsticks, and I want to kill them. Because either I go driving around looking for an open Pizza Hut, or I try sending someone else to do it, but then the paps find out and the next day it’s an  _ Us Weekly  _ headline:  _ Boy-Band Member Spending His Fortune on Breadsticks?!?!?! _ ” He shakes his head, floppy blonde hair falling into his face. “Sorry, it’s been a hard week.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Eddie says. “Are they really cancelling those concerts?”

Something tightens in Ben’s face, and then smooths itself out. “Yeah,” he responds. “They’re taking a break.”

“Have they told you for how long? Like, do you still have your job and everything?”

“They still need me for everything,” Ben smiles wanly. “Whether they’re touring or not.”

He sounds fond when he talks about the boys, even if he’s also annoyed.

“So you’re in Derry for a little while, then.”

“I guess. They wanted to go someplace small, where less people are likely to find them.” Ben looks around the room. “It’s a good enough place to be for now.”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to say, “I guess.”

“You don’t like it here?”

“I’m just sick of it,” he explains. “I’m leaving for a while in the fall, though.”

“Where are you going?”

“College. In Ohio.”

“You’re leaving this for Ohio? Have you ever been to Ohio?”

“Have you?” 

He raises an eyebrow at Eddie. “I’ve been on tour for three years, so the honest answer is that I have no idea.”

The conversation stalls. Bev still isn’t back from the bathroom. Eddie thinks Ben is going to leave any second now.

Instead of leaving, though, he asks, “Want to go get some air?”

“Sure.”

They stop in the kitchen so that Ben can pour more vodka and ginger ale into his cup. Eddie sets Bev’s drink down on the counter.

Outside, the night is still and cool. The stars are pale and the sky is dark.

There’s silence between the two. Eddie lets it linger.

“Can I ask you something?” Ben asks. “Because you look… familiar.”

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. Before he can stop it, he starts to speak.

“I didn’t know,” he says. “There’s no way I could’ve known when I went out there. He just, like, appeared on my street.”

“Did you recognize him?”

Eddie has only a split second to settle on a lie. “Not at first. And then it seemed awkward to, like, ask, you know? I figured I’d just go home and google him or something. It wasn’t like there was anyone else around to care. Until the photographer showed up and blinded us.”

“I just…” Ben rubs a hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry. I had to ask.”

“It’s fine, I get it.”

“Look, it’s my job to protect the boys, okay. All of them. And Richie never thinks about what the consequences are for everyone. For anyone, actually. He’s been-”

“Stressed, drunk, high, putting the band on hiatus, cancelling concerts. I know, okay, everyone  _ knows _ .” Hysteria starts to color Eddie’s voice. “I swear, I’m not a stalker, and I’m not trying to do anything to the band. I really didn’t know who he was when I went out last night. I didn’t know anyone would be there. And now my stupid picture is all over the internet.”

Is this what Richie’s life is like all the time? And Bill and Mike?

Ben asks, “Has it been bad?”

“No,” Eddie says. “You and my best friend are the only ones who recognized me so far. No one else has figured it out.”

“Yet,” Ben adds. “They will.”

“But, I mean, if people haven’t already figured it out, it seems like they probably won’t-”

“The pictures are on the internet,” Ben explains. “A zillion people have seen them, but they’re the ones who are constantly looking for new content. Or maybe they’re just random people who enjoy reading gossip magazines.”He sounds like he’s had to go over this with people in the past. “Unless you run a highly sought after social media account, you’re probably safe for now. But trust me, next week when the pictures are in print, they’ll know. A friend of yours pages through a copy of  _ Us Weekly  _ in the line for the grocery store checkout, someone who knew from middle school sees it, a neighbor picks up their daughter’s copy of  _ Teen Beat _ . All it takes is one phone call from a friend.”

“Good thing I don’t have many friends.”

Ben laughs, but it turns into a grimace. “Man, I’m sorry about this. I really am.”

“Me too. I didn’t mean to cause Richie any trouble.”

“Richie causes his own trouble.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Are we done here?”

Eddie starts towards the door that will take him back into the party, but Ben calls after him.

“Wait, let me give you my number. In case things get bad and you need, you know. A professional opinion, or protection, or something.”

“Oh. Yeah. Um. Thanks?”

Ben puts Eddie’s number in his phone, too. He feels a small sense of pride at that. He’ll be there in Ben’s contact list, Eddie Kaspbrak; some tiny proof that none of this was a dream.

When Ben turns to go back in the party, Eddie makes a decision that he’s calling it a night. His house isn’t too far away, and it’s a nice night for a walk.

Besides, Bev was probably too drunk to drive anyway. 

 

Eddie wakes up late the next morning, his phone lodged uncomfortably against his back.

Bev texted him twice:  **wheeeeeerrrrrrrreeeee arrrrrrrreeeeee uuuuuuuu?!?!??!?** And then:  **Eddddddiiiieeeeeee bbbabaabbbyyyyyyyyy**

There’s another text from an unknown number.

**you’re not gonna sell this # to any tabloids or crazy fans,** it says,  **right?**

Eddie’s heart is racing, his pulse so strong that his fingertips shake from it.

_ No, Richie. _

Richie responds almost immediately.

**good. ben says things have been quiet 4 you so far.**

_ “So far” being the key words _

**lol**

**hope i didn’t fuck things up too badly 4 u**

_ Nope, you’re good _

**:)**

Eddie leaves him on read. For now.


	4. anything could happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just started rehearsals for a show I'm in, so updates may not be *as* frequent, but I'll do my best

That night Eddie decides to text Bev back and fill her in on everything that had happened.

He writes, _ I have something to tell you _ . He writes,  _ something you’ll never believe _ . He writes, _ my week got even crazier somehow _ .

Eddie waits for her to respond.

He looks back at the last message he received from Richie.  **:)** . A simple smiley face that leaves Eddie’s stomach in burst of butterflies. Does he owe Richie, a boy he barely knows, a response?

The thing is, he does know Richie. Well, he doesn’t know  _ him _ , but he knows  _ them _ . The boys, the band, the sound of their voices filling stadiums and studios.

Bev texts back,  **Yeah, I bet.**

**U seem to be having a lot of fun w The Losers Club and all their pals now that u and Richie are in this drama together.**

_ What do you mean? _

**Y didn’t u tell me u left the party w The Losers Club’s fuckin bodyguard?**

_ How’d you hear about that? _

**Greta,**

_ Oh. Well, _

_ I didn’t leave with him. _

_ We just went outside to talk for a while. _

**What’d u talk about?**

_ The pics _

**What’d Ben say about them?**

_ He thinks someone’s gonna recognize me soon _

_ Someone other than you _

**Awwww. My bb’s gonna b famous !!**

_ Ewww _

_ Hell no _

**Do u think u can get Richie’s autograph for me?**

**OOO or do u think u can get Ben’s number for me?**

Eddie doesn’t respond.

Instead, he curls up on top of his covers and goes to YouTube. A Losers Club greatest moments compilation is in his suggested videos. He clicks on the video.

The first clips are hard to hear; the sound of shrieking fans cover the sound of the boys’ voices. Richie has the giant glasses he always used to wear on, and Bill’s hair is shaggy. They’re all wearing baggy sweatshirts and ill-fitting jeans because this was before they had a Stan to shape their act up.

The videos get shorter and faster as the compilation goes on. There are so many of them: Mike singing Can’t Help Falling In Love and winking at Stan, Richie filming the two of them napping together on a couch in a private airplane, Mike smirking at the camera as his hand lingers close to Stan’s thigh in an Instagram story from Bill.

There are thousands of videos like that, but Eddie’s favorite is an interview with the boys and Stan. 

The interview is from the beginning of the promo tour for their third album, LOVER. The boys are wearing their own clothes: dark jeans, vintage t-shirts, flannel shirts. Stan’s in his usual ensemble of a dark suit, his curls slicked back.

“So there are some heavy-duty internet rumors swirling about a ship known as ‘Stanlon,’” the interviewer says.

On screen, Mike fidgets and avoids the camera’s gaze. Richie smirks at him and Stan, and then at the interviewer. Bill is looking down at his shoes, a weird look on his face. Stan is unperturbed.

“Do you have a comment on that?” the interviewer asks.

Stan takes the question smoothly. “Many who are close to me know that I’ve been with someone for a while, and we’re quite serious about each other, but I get why it might seem like Mike and I are together.”

Mike smiles softly at the camera. “People are gonna believe what they want to believe,” he says. 

The video ends with a close-up of the two taken by the paparazzi. They’re on someones yacht, vacationing off the coast of somewhere far away. Mike has his arm around Stan, his head is thrown back as he laughs at something. Stan’s grinning, leaning into Mike’s touch. They both look genuinely happy.

 

Days pass. Nothing interesting happens.

The boys move out of the motel and Eddie squints at the blurry pictures taken by a fan.

Press reports say Richie’s headed back to New York City to make nice with Sabrina. Mike is renting a house in Augusta, and Stan and his significant other are going to the apartment they own in Boston. No one knows where Bill’s headed. 

Eddie works up his courage to send Richie a text.

_ You don’t have to tell me, obviously, but you’re okay, right? _

Richie responds almost twenty-four hours later. Eddie’s looking at pictures of him leaving a club with Sabrina, dark circles under his eyes looking permanent.

**you’re sweet,** he says.  **i’m fine, eds**

_ That’s not my name _

**k, eddie spaghetti**

_ Still not my name _


	5. in a crowd of thousands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a wild weekend, but hey, here's an update !

A week later it happens, just like Ben said it would. Greta’s DM starts with a blurry picture-of-a-picture, and then it says: **Got bored waiting for my bitches to finish trying on clothes. How much does this guy look like you?**

**(That’s not you, right???)**

Eddie is sitting next to Beverly in the Derry Public Library when he gets the message. His blood runs cold in his body, freezing him where he sits.

 _Haha,_ Eddie sends back, panic going through him in waves. Should he have just ignored her message? Consulted Ben, or Richie before responding? He definitely shouldn’t confirm that that’s him.

To Eddie’s relief, Greta doesn’t open his message.

He excuses himself from where he’s reading with Bev, and goes to the back of the library, where he knows the old gossips recycle trashy magazines. Sure enough, the latest copy of _Star_ is laying next to a _Life & Style _magazine.

It’s surreal to see his own face- well a quarter of his face- alongside Patty’s (Stan’s ex from earlier days), and Olivia’s (Richie’s recurring fling from high school), and Audra’s (Bill’s ex, this time). As usual, Mike has no exes under his name.

Eddie flips to page fourteen, where there’s an article titled _Richina together again at last!_

_Richie Tozier’s band recently cancelled concerts due to the star’s “exhaustion,” but he looked well rested and ready to party as he reunited with girlfriend Sabrina Hearth just days after pictures were released of him spending an intimate evening with a mystery man._

Eddie scoffs when he reads the words “intimate evening.”

_A source close to the band claims that the mystery brunette is a childhood love from Richie’s early days._

Eddie stares at the page and tries not to laugh. It’s, like “childhood love”??? He knew people made stuff up, but this is just _so_ made up.

He DMs Greta again.

_Crazy coincidence that the dude looks like me, but I think if my “childhood love” was an international superstar, I’d remember._

He doesn’t even have to make up his own lies, the tabloids are doing it for him.

It remains his line through the afternoon and the next day as people he’d never even spoken to at school message him about it.

He feels like prey in the forest, lying very still, and hoping everyone will just forget about him.

That night he texts Ben.

_You were right, it’s starting._

He gets a reply around two a.m.. The buzz of his phone wakes him up, and he rubs his eyes to adjust to it’s brightness.

**Shit.**

**I hate that I was right.**

_Me too._

**I’m so sorry Eddie. Do you need me for anything?**

_No, I think I’ll be okay_

_Thanks, though_

**No problem.**

**The offer’s still open if things change for the worse, fyi.**

_Thanks Ben_

**No problem.**

**Hold on a sec.**

_??_

**Richie’s telling me to ask you if you’re okay.**

_You’re with him?_

**Unfortunately, lol.**

_Haha_

_Tell him I’m fine_

_My 30 seconds of fame will soon be over_

_Can’t wait to see who the next person is_

**He laughed.**

**And said he hopes he sees you again.**

_I hope to see him again too_


	6. the only exception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this last night, but I got caught up watching Psych. Oops..?

When Eddie’s phone rings, June is rapidly sliding into July. It’s been two weeks since the photos were first released.

“Hello?” Eddie answers, hesitance coloring his voice.

“Hey,” Richie says. “I was going to text, but I missed your voice.”

“Okay.” Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that. He wants so badly to be calm, but his heart is hammering in his chest. “How you are?” His words jumble together, and he realizes what he’s said too late.

He wasn’t this awkward when they were in person. Why could he hold it together then?

Richie doesn’t seem put off by Eddie’s slip-up. He laughs. He has a really nice laugh.

“Good am I.”

Eddie snorts, and waits for him to say something else.

“So I was calling to ask you about something,” Richie sounds a little nervous now. “You can say no if you want to, but I’m back in Maine with Mike, and Sabrina… who’s… she’s… my girlfriend is coming next week. We’re going to a birthday party here, Mike’s, and we’re going to be photographed, probably. So we’re all going to the party together because Stan wants us to crush rumors, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with us. Just to show that nothing weird is going on between us, and stuff. Plus, Sabrina wants to meet you.”

Eddie has no idea what to say.

“You don’t have to go. I understand if you don’t want to.”

“I just- can I think about it?”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course! Party’s not until next week. Thursday. Oh, I should- are you busy?”

Eddie swallows a laugh. “My schedule is always open.”

 

Eddie mulls it over and over again until his head feels light and dizzy. Even if it wasn’t from Richie, the offer would still be tempting; he’d be inside of a party he’d only ever seen pictures of. He’d be in the center of something for once.

The thing about being in the center, though, is that he wouldn’t be able to control who sees him.

He’s gotten away with so much, so far. It seems stupid to risk more.

Eventually, he screws up his courage and texts Ben.

_ Richie invited me to Mike’s birthday party. _

**Huh. I didn’t think he’d actually do it.**

**Good.**

_ Good?? _

_ You think I should go?? _

**Eh. Kind of.**

**If you want to, go for it.**

**Give em another story.**

**Our PR people are all ready with the “he’s just a regular boy, please respect his privacy” routine.**

**I guess what Richie’s asking of you is selfish.**

**You’d risk backlash, but help the band.**

Eddie doesn’t know he’s made his decision until he feels Ben’s word turn something in him; the last click of a key in a lock.

_ Okay. _

_ I’m in. _


	7. worst of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was a rough day

**I haven’t seen u in a hot minute, my dear Eddie**

**What r u doing tonight and do u want to go catch a movie at the Aladdin?**

_Hello to you too, Bev_

_Unfortunately, I’m busy tonight, but we could go tomorrow_

**Busy?**

_Yeah_

_I have a thing_

**“A thing”**

**Thank u Eddie, that clears everything right up**

_Lol_

_I’m going to a party_

**Whos party is it?**

_Mike Hanlon’s_

**Uh-huh**

_Mhm_

**Now’s the part where u say “just kidding!!!!”**

_I’m serious_

**How serious?**

_Dead serious_

**Shit**

**U rly are serious**

_Yep_

**How’d u get an invite?**

_Richie invited me_

***gasps for air***

**U lucky son of a bitch**

_;)_

**Send me lots of pictures**

_Of course_

**And tell me EVERYTHING tomorrow**

_Of course x2_

_I’ve got to go, but I promise I’ll keep u updated_

**U better.**

 

Mike’s rented house has fifteen foot trees in front of it, and security standing at the entrance. They seem out of place in the tiny neighborhood until Eddie sees exactly what they’re trying to keep out: a few men are already idling against the hoods of their cars on the street, heavy cameras hung around their necks.

He ducks forward, hoping the cameras only catch his profile again. The front door bangs open before he has a chance to fix his hair or straighten his shirt.

“Hey!” Richie smiles. “Eds! You’re here!”

Richie Tozier looks incredibly good; he’s dressed already, hair done, contacts standing in for his glasses.

“Sorry,” Eddie finds himself saying when he can remember how to breathe. “I wasn’t, um, totally sure what to wear.”

Richie grins impishly. “Whoops! I should’ve told Ben to have someone pull you a stylist, or- I mean, you look great though. Really fucking cute.”

Stan appears behind Richie in the doorway and smacks him playfully across the back of the head. “You made the poor boy get dressed on his own?” He takes Eddie’s hand in his own, pulling him into the house. “Richie forgets that not everyone has a stylist on speed dial.”

“Boys are always useless,” Eddie says in a voice that sounds nothing like his own.

“You really do look great,” Stan says. “And you know how these parties are; it’s only putting on an attitude that matters.”

Stan pats Eddie on the arm and disappears to another room. Richie touches his shoulder absently. “You ready to meet the others?”

_Oh god,_ Eddie thinks, _I’m gonna die._

He nods in response to Richie’s question.

Richie leads him up the stairs, stopping at the first door on the left.

The master bedroom, where the other guys are hanging out obviously has been inhabited by a boy. It’s covered in shirts, pants, hats, sneakers. Classic rock is blasting so loudly that the floor shakes in time with the beat.

Bill is sitting on the edge of the bed, his head tilted low enough to drink something amber and icy out of a heavy looking cup. He doesn’t look up when they walk in. Mike is in the bathroom, messing with his outfit. Ben is seated in a chair that’s been pulled up next to the bed.

Eddie doesn’t see Stan’s significant other or Sabrina.

“Is Sabrina here yet?”

“Her flight got delayed. She’s probably gonna show up really late,” Richie responds. For someone who’s supposed to be introducing his girlfriend to a guy who was labeled his “childhood love”, he sounds very laid back.

Richie gestures to Bill.

“Bill, Eddie, Eddie, Bill.”

“Hi,” Eddie says, and gives him an awkward wave.

“Hi,” Bill says. “Ben says Richie m-messed up?”

“He didn’t give Eddie a dress code,” Ben says.

Bill smiles softly, “You look g-good, b-but whiskey helps w-with everything.”  He nods towards the dresser that’s been set up as a makeshift bar. “Especially n-nerves. S-so feel ff-free to help yourself.”

“Oh, no thanks. I’m good.”

“Smart boy,” Richie pipes up. “No reason to start drinking early when it’s going to be a long night. Longer than my-”

Ben pipes up with an exhausted sigh. “Beep beep Rich.”

Richie takes an ice cube from the silver bucket on the dresser and hurls it at Mike in the bathroom. It pegs him in the shoulder. “Mike, stop being a priss and come say hi.”

“Hi!” Mike calls over his shoulder, and then goes back to comparing two jackets.

“See? I’m not the worst of the group.”

Bill stands up, wobbling slightly as he makes his way to the makeshift bar. “I b-beg to d-differ.” Eddie watches the concentration he’s mustering to not spill anything. He can tell this won’t be Bill’s first refill.

_Oh,_ he thinks. So maybe this is why they’re really taking a break. Or maybe it’s just a piece of it.

As soon as he thinks that, a half dozen other rumors swirl into his mind: Bill sneaking onto the tour bus just before sunrise, unsteady on his feet, fans noticing when he slurs lyrics together, a hotel claiming that the room he’d stayed in was trashed.

“Pat just texted,” Ben says, calling Eddie away from his realization. “She says she and Audra lost track of time. She says she’ll meet us at the party.”

“Does that mean Audra’s coming?” Bill asks.

Eddie turns to Richie. “Who’s Pat?”

“Patty. Stan’s old amour,” Richie grins at Eddie. “We’re leaving soon, I promise. Thanks for putting up with all of this.”

“If Richie Tozier invites you to a party, you don’t turn down the invitation.”

“You know that’s right.”


	8. sea of lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking about making a playlist for this book, but I don't think anyone would listen to it.  
> I think my music choices are pure f i r e, but anyone who knows me begs to differ

When they pull up to the Sapphire Nightclub, the valet line is atrocious and the sidewalk is choked with photographers and fans. The driver gets them as close as he can, but there’s probably ten or fifteen feet they’ll have to walk to get to the roped-off entrance of the club.

They’re about to get out of the car when Richie’s phone lights up with a text. “Dammit,” he says. “‘Brina says she can’t make it.”

“What do you mean, can’t make it? I thought she was meeting us here?”

“I don’t know. I guess she missed her flight completely.”

“But I thought-” Eddie cuts himself off.

“She says she’s sorry. She’ll make it up to you,” Richie shuffles his phone from hand to hand. “Do you still want to go to the party?”

Eddie now understands that he struck a bargain without reading the fine print. The rules are different now.

“Sure,” he says.

Richie offers him his hand.

He tries to remember how to breathe, how to get out of the car, how to stand and walk, but everything is so overwhelming. Flashes go off, blinding him. Men screaming Richie’s name fill his ears, and then his head. He stumbles every step he takes.

When he sees the pictures in the morning, he’ll wonder why he didn’t put a hand up to protect his eyes. In every image he looks dazed, like a deer caught in headlights. Richie is smiling. They are holding hands.

Eddie doesn’t know that now, though. He barely registers when they walk through the door of the club.

“You get used to that eventually, right?” he asks.

“No,” Richie is looking directly in his eyes. “You learn how to tune it out.”

Bill appears beside them. “You learn how to g-get drunk.” He nudges a flask against Richie’s chest, but Richie pushes it away.

“You should go have fun,” Eddie says to him. “I’ll just go hang out in a corner. Near the bar.”

Richie laughs. “I’m not leaving you alone in this mess, Spaghetti. Who knows, you might even have a little bit of fun tonight.”

“Is that the idea?” Eddie asks.

“Let me tell you: it is.”

It occurs to Eddie a half a second too late that Richie’s flirting with him, and he’s letting him. What’s worse is that Sabrina’s not there and she’s not going to be there, so Eddie lets himself flirt back.

 

The music is loud, creating a constant thrumming noise that reverberates through Eddie’s head. Everyone’s talking, or singing, or whooping. It’s a constant blanket of noise. The private back room that the party is in is filled with too many people.

Eddie has enough of the claustrophobia around 12:30, sneaking out of the suffocatingly hot room to get some air.

He finds himself in a little garden patio. There are lanterns strung on wires that criss-cross the sky overhead, and dividing walls that make secret corners to sit and eavesdrop. Shabby-chic rugs cover the ground, and low couches and cushions are around.

He’s happy to find a little corner cushion enclosed in the folds of a dividing screen.

 _Weirdest, most exhausting party ever,_ he texts Bev.

**:(((**

**Can u leave??**

_I don’t know, I feel like that would be rude to Rich_

**Oh**

**Yeah**

**Ur right**

“Hey,” someone says. “Mind if I join you?”

Richie is standing over Eddie, hands shoved in his back pockets. He’s shed his bomber jacket, and his curls are plastered to his forehead with sweat. Some of the loose curls fall into his eyes. Eddie wants to reach out and fix his hair.

“Sure,” he says, sitting on his hands so that he doesn’t act on his impulsive thought. His thigh brushes against Richie’s when the lankier boy sits. “This is how it all started,” Eddie observes, watching Richie take pull a slightly squashed pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. “One innocent smoke break gone horribly wrong.”

“That’s really how you’d describe it, huh? Horribly wrong?” Eddie can hear the teasing note in Richie’s voice.

“Isn’t that how _you_ think of it?”

“Eds, even if you hadn’t been there, the paps still would’ve made it into a story. _Brooding Boy Band Member Tries To Ruin His Life And His Lungs._ They can almost always make out a story.”

Eddie knows, intellectually, that smoking is gross and bad, but it’s hard to keep that in mind when Richie’s freckled cheeks hollow with inhale, enunciating the sharpness of his cheekbones. Looking at him, Eddie understands that beauty and danger are separated by a thin, barely visible line.

“Do you ever have trouble keeping it straight? Like, figuring out the truth from the lies?”

Richie leans his head back against the dividing screen behind them. His eyes flutter close, and Eddie can see the long eyelashes that almost brush against his face. He gives up on trying to tell himself that he doesn’t want to touch him.

“No,” Richie replies. Then, “Actually, yes.”

“It must be hard.”

“I’ve learned how to keep perspective on things.”

“Are you glad to be on a break? To have, like, a little hiatus from everything?”

Richie laughs bleakley. “No. I hate not working.”

“I thought you were the reason the band was taking a break?”

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? To do everything that way makes sense,” exhaustion is evident in Richie’s voice. “They made me the scapegoat, per usual. I was already the bad boy, so it made sense.”

Eddie nods.

Richie’s honesty makes him want to come clean about the night they met.

“I was lying,” he starts. “The night we met, I recognized you. I love your music.”

“You don’t have to say that, Spaghetti Man.”

“I mean it, Richie. I _love_ The Losers Club, and now I feel like a dork being, like, ‘I love your music!!’ But it’s the truth!”

Richie smiles at Eddie, shaking his head a bit. “Nah, you’re not a dork. You’re really fucking adorable.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Richie half-smiles. “Most of the people I meet are people from the industry. They’re used to lying for money, so they never really say what they mean. And the fans just scream. It’s hard to have a conversation, because they’re interested in you, just not the _actual_ you. It’s hard. I fucking hate living that way.”

Eddie smiles sadly. “I don’t believe that your life’s hard. It just seems incredibly lonely.”

“I wish you weren’t right, Edward Spaghedward.”

“Not even remotely close to my name.”

Richie laughs, dropping his cigarette onto the ground and grinding it out with the heel of his sneaker.

“Patty was talking about getting out of here soon. You ready to go?”

Eddie nods.

“I’ll tell Ben to pull the car up. Stay here, yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Richie disappears around one corner just as Stan and Mike turn another. This is the first time Eddie’s seen Mike since he showed up, and made off with a platter of cupcakes and a champagne bottle. Now he Stan are so wrapped up in one another that they don’t notice him as they take the couch diagonal from where he’s sitting.

Stan is talking rapidly, waving his hands around rapidly. There’s something silver, and small grasped in his left hand. Whatever he says makes Mike throw back his head and laugh.

He can just barely make out what Stan is saying. He picks up the words “proposal” and “I made him a deal”.

Eddie pulls out his phone.

They don’t look up from where Mike has Stan sitting in his lap.

Eddie takes a picture without looking at the phone screen.

Stan takes Mike’s hand and lifts it to his mouth so he can kiss it.

Eddie takes a picture of that, too.

He’s looking at the pictures- Mike’s hand, Stan’s mouth- when Richie reappears.

“All set?”

Eddie tilts his phone towards himself and says, “Just one second.” It’s such a simple movement of his fingers on glass; he sends the photos to Bev, then deletes the originals.

“Yep,” he says to Richie. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

 

When they get back to Mike’s, Richie says, “You should stay.”

Eddie is speechless.

“We all crash here and do breakfast and stuff in the morning,” Patty pipes up. “Ben makes the best pancakes.”

“I’m the only one who knows how to cook anything without burning the house down.”

“Bill can cook,” Mike adds.

“Bill’s not here,” Stan reminds him.

Everyone seems resigned to the fact of Bill’s drinking and disappearance in a way Eddie doesn’t totally understand. Richie seems burdened. Mike looks like a kicked puppy. Patty and Ben look disappointed. Stan just looks… broken.

Like the living embodiment of a heart cracked in two.


	9. start a fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'm going to be able to post this weekend because I'm going to a funeral out of town, so, apologies in advance !!
> 
> Also, I wanted Patty to have a bigger role (cause she's a queen, I can't lie), but it's proving to be difficult to add her into the story line   
> :((

When Eddie comes downstairs in the morning, Patty is sitting on one of the barstools in the kitchen, her legs drawn up to her chest, a too-big t-shirt pulled over her knees. She looks exhausted and hungover and very beautiful with her smudged eyeliner and the dark circles under her eyes.

Eddie is wearing last night’s clothes and feeling like an idiot.

“Hey,” Eddie says. “You don’t happen to have a spare phone charger by any chance, do you?”

She gestures to the wall behind her, nursing a cup of coffee in her hands.

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

She hums a response.

The silence between the two is awkward as Eddie waits for his phone to charge enough to turn on.

“Did you, um, did you sleep?”

“No, not really.”

Patty’s face is pale in the morning sunlight; so pale she looks unearthly.

She asks, “How did you end up here? I meant to ask you last night, but I got kind of drunk. My bad.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Richie and I met by accident. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Oh! Right! You’re the guy from the pictures.” She scrunches up her face like she’s puzzled. “I thought Rich was supposed to introduce you to Sabrina.”

“He was,” Eddie explains. “She couldn’t make it, though- missed her flight.”

“Nah, that’s not right. She’s been in New Hampshire. She flew out yesterday morning.” Patty’s words are interrupted by a yawn. “I know because we were supposed to hang out yesterday, and then it was just me and Bill, and-” It finally seems to occur to her that she might have said too much. “Anyway, sounds like they got their wires crossed somewhere. It happens.”

Eddie hates the casual way she lies; like he’s too dumb to hear the difference in her voice.

“Yeah.”

She looks slightly guilty as she stares down at the coffee she’s been holding. “I’m sorry, I’m a shit liar.”

“Yeah.”

His phone whirs back to life, text notifications start flashing like bolts of lighting. The most recent is from his mother: **Where are you Eddie-Bear?**

He chooses to ignore her. All the other notifications are Bev, Bev, Bev, and a couple Instagram notifications letting him know that he has fifty-four message requests and sixty-eight unread DMs.

It’s worse than he could’ve imagined. He has to piece together the story, flying backwards through Bev’s texts, starting from the first one she sent in response to the pictures of Mike and Stan: **WHAT OMG WHERE R THEY**

**I MEAN OBVIOUSLY THEYRE AT THE PARTY, BUT HOWD U GET THESE**

**THIS IS AMAZING**

**IM TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER BUT I FUCKING CANT**

**TEARS R  S T R E A M I N G DOWN MY FACE**

**I CANT BELIEVE I GOT TO WAKE UP TO THIS**

**CAN I SHOW EVERYONE?** ****

**CAN I SHOW ANYONE?**

**U NEED TO RESPOND IM DYING**

**OKAY**  

**I ONLY SENT THEM TO MY FRIEND NIX BC SHES A HUGE FAN**

**HAVE I EVER TOLD U THAT UR MY HERO??**

**BC EDDIE UR MY HERO**

**I told Nix not to send it to anyone, but she sent it to a few friends just to prove that she’s not making it up**

**Okay, so one of Nix’s friends got ahold of the photos and she has a really big fan account**

**Oh shit, Eddie.**

**I’m so sorry.**

**Things got out of hand.**

**I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen.**

All he has to do is google The Losers Club to find the rest of the story. First there are pictures of him and Richie walking into the club together: _Brazen Boybander Flaunts His Sidepiece, Reportedly A High School Student Named Edward Kaspbrak._

Then: _Stan Uris and Mike Hanlon Captured In Lovey-Dovey Pictures Taken By A Partygoer._

The last article has nothing to do with Eddie, but he feels guilty nonetheless.

_Is Teen Idol, Bill Denbrough, Taking A Turn For The Worse?_

Bill’s night ended with him stumbling out of an after-hours bar, vomiting on the sidewalk, and swinging at the photographer who caught him in the act.

He was so drunk that the pap didn’t even bother hiding; instead they captured the moment. The picture is frozen on Bill’s body wild and twisting, eyes and mouth both bloodshot red. He looks young and furious and lost, trapped and alone.

“Hey, can you tell them I had to go?” Eddie’s heart is beating rapidly in his chest, so loud he thinks Patty must be able to hear it. “I just have this- thing.”

“Sure,” Patty responds. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“Yeah, uh, you too.”


	10. train wreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not posting in a couple of days !!  
> my mom's boyfriend is moving in, and it's been causing stress

His house is empty when he finally gets home. His mom is probably out grocery shopping.

Eddie feels like he’s going to collapse in on himself. He’s impossibly grateful to strip off his clothes and step into a hot shower. At first the steam smells like the last twenty-four hours; coffee and cocktails, night air, anxious sweat and sleeplessness, but that slides down the drain eventually, and then it’s just soap and shampoo.

He knows he’ll want to text Richie at some point to straighten out what last night meant.

He’ll call him. Either Richie will explain himself or he won’t answer, and that will be its own kind of explanation.

Part of Eddie knows, though, that he’ll pick up. He has to. He involved Eddie in this, and now no one can say it was an accident.

Richie walked into Eddie’s world on a twist of fate, but he reached out and pulled Eddie into his.

It’s a strange world. Daunting and scary. Stifling and lonely. 

He gets out of the shower and puts on his comfiest clothes. His phone is still blowing up with notifications, but there are three new messages.

The first is from Richie:  **thanks for last night eds <3**

The next is from Ben:  **I think someone should come get you. We should probably talk.**

_ I think I need some time,  _ Eddie sends back.  _ Last night was a lot was to handle. _

The final message is from his mother:  **Are you home now?**

_ Yes, Ma. _

**Stay there.**

**We need to talk.**

 

Someday, Eddie knows he’ll be able to look back and laugh at the absurdity of his mother reading, “Edward Kaspbrak, eighteen, was spotted out with Richie Tozier. Friends say the recent high school grad is a longtime friend of the band, so it’s no surprise that rumor has them getting hot and heavy in the back of a club…”. However, today is not that day.

“God, Ma. I promise you, nothing happened!”

“I don’t care what happened! This is entirely inappropriate and I will not have you going around kissing some dirty  _ boy _ !”

Eddie feels like he’s drowning.

“How long has this been going on, Eddie?”

“It hasn’t- not that long.”

“Are you  _ dating  _ him?”

“No! No. We’re just friends!”

“So why are people saying they saw you with this boy’s tongue down your throat?”

“People lie about celebrities!”

“I don’t need you getting into trouble. You’ve always been so unproblematic, Eddie-Bear.”

“Maybe I’m sick of being unproblematic.” The words come spilling out of him. “I’m sick of being practical. I’m sick of being nothing. I’m sick of being looked at as some precious little baby when I’m a fucking  _ adult _ , Ma! And I’m sick of waking up every fucking morning and having to pretend to be straight just so that I don’t piss you off! So what if he was my boyfriend? If he makes me happy, and I’m not doing anything illegal, you should just hop off my fucking back!”

The minute he stops talking, Eddie wishes he could take every word back. His mother’s face is empty. She looks like she did right after Eddie’s father died: like the glassy top of a frozen pond.

“You’re grounded. Go to your room.”


	11. the truth untold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kind of just a cute lil' texting chapter between Bev and Eddie
> 
> If I finish this story before Christmas, I'm thinking of making a holiday sequel because i fuCKING LOVE THE HOLIDAYS.  
> but idk, it's just an idea.

**Will u at least tell me if ur never gonna speak to me again :(**

Another message from Bev. It flashes briefly across Eddie’s screen before he clicks on it.

_I’m thinking about it,_ he sends back.

**I’m just gonna say I’m sorry one more time,**

**I’m so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so soso so so so so so so so so sorry.**

**I mean it from the bottom of my heart.**

**U being mad at me is causing me pain.**

**I miss u soooooo sooooo sooooo much Eddie**

_Okay_

**Can we pleeeeaaaasssseeee talk about what’s going on?**

**I feel like I don’t know what’s real anymore**

_Same._

**How’s Richie?**

**How are you?**

**What’s happening with Bill?**

**What do the pictures of Mike and Stan mean?**

**Did you really get to meet Patty?**

**How was she?**

**Is Ben rly hot in person or are all the pics of him air-brushed??**

_I don’t know_

_I don’t know_

_I don’t know_

_And I don’t know_

_Yes_

_She was sweet_

_Ben is cute. Not my type, but cute. No air-brushing detected lmao._

_Any more questions? Or can I go back to moping?_

**Hmm**

**I hope I’m not bothering u**

**I’m just worried about u**

**And them**

**I wish they would post more**

**So I could tell if things were okay**

_What if things aren't okay?_

_I mean it’s kind of obvious Bill’s not okay_

**:(((((((**

_And after talking to Richie, I can tell he’s far from being okay_

**:(((((((((((((**

_So_

_Yeah_

**Do u like him?**

_Who?_

**Richie, obviously**

_Maybe I do_

_Maybe I don’t_

**CMON EDDIE**

**I said I was sorry!**

**Stop being so uptight and untrusting!**

_I never said I forgave you_

**Please forgive me**

_Idk about that_

**I’ll bake u a cake**

_Hmmm_

_I guess this means that..._

_I forgive you??_

**Wow**

**It was that easy?**

_You know me_

_I could never say no to your baking skills_

**Ha ha**

**Right**

**So back to my q**

**Do u like Richie?**

_Ummm_

_Yeah, I tried really hard not to, but he’s super charming._

_And cute._

_And hot._

_And pretty._

_And he makes my stomach feel like a ton of butterflies are doing water aerobics in it._

**SJSJSJSKS** **  
** **C**

**UT**

**e**

_I don’t think he likes me though_

**Uh did u see the way he was looking at u in all the pap pics?**

_Nah, not really_

**Eddie, bb, he’s majorly into u**

_I don’t know_

**Yeah, well I do**

_I feel like he brought me into this to prove something_

_To settle a score_

**And I feel like I’m totally stating the freakin obvious here, but, why don’t u just ask him?**

_I don’t want to feel stupider than I already do._

**If he’s using u, he’s the asshole, u know?**

**And I will kick his skinny ass**

**< 3**

_Thanks Bev_

**Np, lovie**


	12. unknown (to you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chosen Jacobs is an actual angel/ray of sunshine/blessing and nothing can change my mind  
> *sips facts, not tea*

He texts Richie, _Hey._

Richie replies almost immediately, surprising him: **hey eds**

**srry i haven’t reached out**

_I wanted to talk to you about that night_

_The night of the party, I mean_

**yeah**

**ik what u mean**

**i want 2 talk 2**

**can we meet up somewhere ?**

_I’m grounded_

**grounded ?**

Yes??

**okay**

**um, how old r u ?**

_18??_

**& who grounded u ?**

_My mom??_

**u do realize that u r a legal adult, right ?**

**u can disobey mommy w/out getting in2 trouble**

_I mean, I know, but things really aren’t good between us right now, and I don’t want to fuck things up any more than I already have_

**what a good boy**

_Shut up_

_:)_

**feisty**

**i like it**

_Are we gonna talk, or what?_

**well yeah, but i kind of wanted 2 do it in person**

_Right_

**i can come 2 u**

_My mom won’t let you in_

**so i’ll climb through the window**

_You wouldn’t_

**watch me**

**what’s the address ?**

Eddie sends his mother’s address.

 

Richie looks smaller curled up on Eddie’s bed, somehow, like he’s letting the edges of his life blend with the normalcy of Eddie’s.

He has a breakout on his forehead and his hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in days, but he’s still beautiful.

Eddie clears his throat, waiting for Richie to look up at him before he starts to speak. “So what really happened the night of the party?”

Richie’s head sags like he’s been expecting this question. “Patty said she mentioned something to you about ‘Brina.”

“She told me Sabrina flew into New Hampshire that morning.”

“Yeah.”

“So why wasn’t she at the party?”

“I never invited her.”

“Why?”

Richie puts his glasses on top of his head and rubs a hand over his eyes. “I needed a way to get you to go to the party without making it seem like I was using you.”

“Were you using me?”

“No! And I hope that’s not how I came off.”

“It kind of is. You lied to me, and told me that going would help the situation, when in reality, all it did was make it look worse.”

Richie doesn’t look at Eddie for a while. “What do you want?”

“I want to be a person to you, and not just-” Eddie cuts himself off. “I don’t want to have to tell you how to treat me like a person.”

“Let’s start with this: I’m sorry. I screwed up.”

“I took your hand,” Eddie says. “I got out of the car with you.”

“You didn’t know what it meant when you did, though. Not really.”

“Yeah,” Eddie feels like crying. “So can you tell me what’s actually going on? What it actually meant?”

“Yeah, okay,” Richie taps his fingers absently against his bottom lip. “I should start by telling you that ‘Brina and I broke up, like, six months ago. It had been coming for a long time, honestly. And then, well, you’ve seen Bill. I guess everyone knows about Bill now.”

“That wasn’t the first time he-?”

“It’s been a problem for a while. It started on the fifth anniversary of his brother’s death.”

Eddie nods slowly. He remembers reading an article on Bill’s kid brother, Georgie, who died in a freak accident when he was seven. “Is he going to rehab?”

“Tried to make him, but: no, no, no.”

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s allowed to laugh at Richie’s joke.

“When we talked the other night, about it being hard, and lonely-”

Richie barks out a strangled laugh. “Please don’t feel sorry for me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry. I just don’t know what to think.”

There’s a silence between the two. Eddie traces over Richie’s features, not missing the way his eyes droop like they haven’t closed in a long, long time.

“Can I ask you something, Eds?”

“Sure.”

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“Okay.”

“Did you take the pictures of Mike and Stan?”

Eddie doesn’t have time to decide; he just says, “No.”

Richie is silent for a few minutes, and then out of nowhere, he wraps Eddie up in a hug. At first Eddie tenses at the unexpected contact, but then he melts into Richie's embrace. Richie is warm, and he smells sweet and musky at the same time, like sweat and faint cologne.

They stay in each others hold for a while, and Eddie feels his stomach plummet when Richie sighs and his grasp loosens.

“I should probably get going.”

“Yeah.”

He pulls away from the hug, and holds Eddie at arms length.

“Bye, spaghetti.”

“Do you need me to help you out the window?”

“Nah,” Richie says. “I got it.”


	13. come what may

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a pretty big paper to write this weekend (thanks Mr. D), and I'm not sure if I'm gonna have any time to write
> 
> I'm just gonna post this chapter and see how my paper writing goes :)

**so, my little eddie spaghetti, i have good news and bad news**

_ … _

_ Okay? _

**good news, i get 2 see you again (yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy)**

**bad news, stan the man needs u on friday (booooooooooooo)**

_ Why? _

**we’re planning a little losers club special 2 help w the public opinions**

**can u b there ?**

_ Still grounded :( _

**u can’t sneak out ?**

_ No car keys. _

**HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA**

**eds**

**you do realize,**

**we can send you a car**

 

Walking back into Mike’s rented house, Eddie registers that this is the first time he’s seen The Losers Club actually put together.

The room is crowded, a couple PR specialists are taking up the chairs, and the boys are squished on a loveseat.

Richie waves Eddie over and gestures to his lap.

“I saved you a seat, Eds!”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but sits on Richie’s lap without complaint. Mike and Bill eye them suggestively, and Eddie can feel a blush creeping on his cheeks.

He’s grateful when Stan calls everyone’s attention to the head of the table.

“It’s been a rough few weeks, and I’m not interested in placing blame, at this point. I’m interested in what we need to do to get the Club back on track.”

Every head around the table is nodding seriously.

“This is now an open discussion. I’m expecting everyone, the boys included, to throw out ideas on how to fix this.”

“We can go Bieber, and acknowledge the problems. Let it roughen up their image a little bit. We could go for a more provocative angle,” a PR girl suggests, tapping a pen against her clipboard rapidly.

Richie nudges Eddie and whispers to him, “By  _ provocative _ , she means us shirtless on a magazine cover, clutching our balls, and looking like we’re angry about being so hot.”

“That’s exactly what the ladies are asking for,” Eddie whispers back. He muffles a laugh.

“Tozier,” Stan calls. “Do I have to separate you two?”

“No, Stanuel.”

Stan looks annoyed, but proceeds with the meeting. “Does anyone else have any suggestions?”

“I think we need to arrange a concert. Here in Augusta- just for superfans. The boys give back and go back to their roots. Assuming it all goes well, we’ll do another one in New York, and then in LA.”

It’s an elegant plan. Simple.

“A-and then we take a b-break,” Bill says, so softly that everyone almost misses it.

“Of course, Bill,” Stan assures him. “And I know I’ve said it before, but, guys, this is a delicate situation.”

“And who’s f-fault is t-that?” Bill doesn’t have any problem speaking up now, glaring at Richie.

“Hey,” Mike says. “We’ve all been messing up.”

“Only some of us are d-doing it on p-p-purpose. P-planting stories. P-playing the p-paps f-fucking g-games.”

Eddie had assumed they were all in on Richie’s intentions. He assumed that when Richie called him and invited him to the party, everyone knew the game plan. Now he sees that he is very, very wrong.

“Excuse me,” Richie speaks up, poking his head over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m trying to save your fucking ass, Bill.”

A couple heads from the PR team snap up.

Stan gives the boys a very mild look. “Guys, do you need a moment?”

“I do, actually,” Richie disentangles himself from Eddie and stalks out of the room.

“I’ll, um, go see if he wants to talk.” When no one contradicts Eddie, he has no choice but to follow after Richie.

 

Richie is laying in the grass in the backyard, smoking.

Eddie slides the backdoor open and slips into the lawn. When he gets closer, he can see that Richie’s eyes are closed.

He finishes his cigarette and flicks it away.

“Hiya, Eds.”

“Hey,” Eddie says back.

“Did they send you to try and make me apologize?”

“No.”

He doesn’t tell him to go away, so Eddie sits down next to him. Richie reaches a long arm over, towards him. Eddie takes his hand. His palm is large and warm.

“Do you want me to get someone else?”

Richie laughs. “No. Definitely not.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Fuck no.”

“Okay.”

Eddie turns Richie’s palm up in his lap and traces his finger along the lines of it.

“Are you reading my future?”

“You will become very rich and famous,” Eddie answers in a monotone. “Oh, wait. You already are.”

Richie chuckles, low and soft. His laugh makes Eddie smile.

It makes Eddie forget what he’s doing. He takes the hand that he’s holding and pulls it up. He kisses the soft skin of Richie’s palm, and then flips it over to kiss his knuckles.

“I’m such a mess, Eds. I’m such a fuckup.”

“I’m sorry, ‘Chee.”

“No, god, I’m sorry. Anytime we hang, I always bitch about my problems.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not! It’s not fine! I should at least hear about your problems, too. Fair trade?”

“My problems are boring.”

“Why are you grounded?”

“My mom and I fought. I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

“Like?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Eddie tries to make his voice nonchalant. “I told her I was gay because I got sick of pretending to be someone I’m not for her sake, but now I’m not really sure who I am.”

“Why don’t you just be yourself?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Hmm,” Richie goes silent in thought, not wanting to push Eddie. “You’re going to college soon, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

“I don’t blame you. You’ve got a lot going on right now. Thinking about it is just added stress,” Richie says. He’s quiet for a second, and then a big grin spreads across his face. “We should go on a field trip. A college shopping field trip!”

“Where?”

“The mall, of course!”

“The mall?”

“Hell yeah! I never get to go to the mall!”

“Isn’t there, like, a reason for that?”

Richie shrugs. “Yeah, but, I’m trying this new thing where I don’t give a fuck about repercussions.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“C’mon, Eds! I’m bored in my life! Let me come spend a day in yours!”

“I mean,” Eddie’s hesitant to let Richie do this. “If you really want to…”

“Trust me, Spaghetti, I really do.”


	14. something i need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes, my writing is getting progressively worse

Eddie’s shocked when Richie makes true on his promise to take him shopping for college. Of course, though, it is not a normal shopping trip.

On the escalator in the Bangor Mall, Eddie finds himself acting like one of Richie’s bodyguards, shifting himself in front of him when a woman’s gaze lingers for just a second too long. She probably doesn’t recognize him, but Eddie feels vulnerable on Richie’s behalf.

He pinches the back of Eddie’s arm and smiles at him. “Hey there, lil’ Ben. Stand down.”

“I’m working on it.”

“What’s first on the shopping list?”

Eddie pulls the list he made up on his phone. “I need sheets and pillowcases and pillows, I guess. Lamps? Storage boxes. A trash can. A couch.”

“You’re gonna take all of that to Ohio?”

“I’ll probably get the couch there.”

The walls of the store are stacked to the industrial ceiling with stuff. Eddie can feel himself holding back a desperate sigh.

“Look, you don’t have to decide to buy anything today, Eds. This can be an exploratory mission.”

“Feels like a waste of time.”

“What’s the fun of time if you don’t waste it once in a while?”

“I feel like there’s got to be fault in your logic, but okay.” Eddie finds a handheld shopping cart and hands it to Richie.

A girl brushes by them, and Eddie sees her see Richie: there’s a split second when she must think  _ I know that guy because he’s famous _ . She doesn’t say anything, though, and when they run into her again a few minutes later, Eddie brushes it off as a coincidence.

“Should we-” he starts.

Richie doesn’t seem to have noticed. He’s holding up a pack of glow-in-the-dark stars. “Do you think these are too childish? ‘Cause I feel like they’d be really cool.”

“I like them. They’re cool.”

“Subversive cool,” Richie says. “I like it.”

Eddie doesn’t know exactly when the volume of people in the mall starts to swell. He isn’t sure until it’s too late. People are surrounding them. They’re all staring.

“Richie,” he says.

“I know.”

Richie looks down at what they’ve assembled in the tiny cart. “Probably time to abandon this project, Eds, but there’s a lot of important aesthetic here.”

Eddie laughs.

A trio of girls walks up to them. They’re fourteen, maybe, wearing tiny shorts and tiny crop tops. “Hi!” one says.

“Hey guys. How are you?” Richie asks.

It’s the wrong move. It doesn’t take two minutes before they’re surrounded completely.

The crowd seems to all talk at once.

From the center of the circle, there doesn’t seem to be an end to them: hopeful faces, hopeful voices, hands out, wanting and needing, asking and begging. Demanding.

“I can’t do this,” Richie keeps saying. He tries to direct it to each girl grabbing at him. “I’m so sorry. I just want to shop with my friend. With Eds. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

They don’t care. The boldest girl tries to hug him.

“Please don’t,” Richie says. The crowd is moving in and in and in. “Please-”

A security guard is trying to move the crowd away, but there are a hundred people, probably, and just one of him.

Richie pulls out his phone to call Ben. “You can yell at me in the car, but I need you to come get me and Eddie. Right now.”

As soon as the real security shows up, time starts to move differently. Two enormous men clear a path for them to walk, while a third ducks Eddie and Richie under his arms. He shields them from the fans and herds them into a waiting SUV.

 

It isn’t until they get to Richie’s hotel that anyone thinks about what to do with Eddie. “Oh,” the guard who helped them says. “I guess- should we-” He turns to Ben for instructions.

“We’ll take you home,” he says.

From behind Ben, Richie says, “No. I want Eds to stay.”

“Then I guess I’m staying,” Eddie states.

Ben doesn’t look too happy about it, but there’s nothing he can do.

He’s on Richie’s payroll, after all. They all are.

Housekeeping must have just gone through Richie’s room. His clothes have all been folded and stacked in piles, books organized, and his laptop is sitting, closed, in the center of his neatly made bed.

“Is this where you’ve been staying?”

“We have to change it up every other night, but yeah.” Richie collapses on the bed. “I wish Ben would just yell at me.”

“You could… tell him that?”

“Yeah. Great. So then yelling at me is part of his job now, too,” Richie sounds close to tears. “I’ve tried. So fucking hard. And I can never be good enough, so fuck it, right? I just- I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Eddie folds himself down next to him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. Richie leans his head against him.

“You make me feel safe,” Richie whispers. “Is that stupid?”

“Corny.”

“How do I make you feel?”

Eddie knows the answer in his bones before he finds the words for it. His eyes flutter closed.

He likes the way their bodies fit together, warm and easy.

“You make me feel like anything might happen.”

“Anything at all.”

“Look Richie,” Eddie says. “I don’t know who I am, or what I’m doing, but I like you. And I like that you like me. It makes me feel like- maybe I’m not so bad. Like, if you trust me, then I trust you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Richie asks. His smile is wide and glorious, and Eddie sees him looking at his mouth and thinks:  _ ohholyshitwhatthefuckishappening _ .

“I’d be an idiot to say no.”

And then Richie is kissing Eddie.

He knew it was coming, but that doesn’t stop him from making a small, startled noise against Richie’s mouth.

The hand that was on Eddie’s knee finds his hip, and then the skin of his back, and then the ladder of his ribs. 

Eddie can’t bring himself to think of anything at all except the dizzy sweetness of what’s happening, and how it keeps happening, and how he never wants it to stop.


	15. in my dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> really short chapter where Rich and Eds have a cute lil' convo on the phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be all I'm posting for this week, I think
> 
> Enjoyyyy :) (and Happy Thanksgiving, if you celebrate it or whateva')

Richie answers on the third ring. His voice is sandy with the weight of sleep.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Eddie says.

“Nah, ‘sgood. My nap wasn’t supposed to last this long.”

“It’s nighttime. Time for real sleep now.”

“Mmmm. But now I’m awake, Spaghetti. You’ll have to talk to me for a while, I guess. Until we both fall asleep."

“I can do that,” Eddie says. “Can I ask how you feel? About, uh, earlier?”

“I feel good about it,” Richie’s voice is rough, but no longer from sleep. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Did you end up getting yelled at?”

“The boys came over for dinner. We had room service delivered meals and yelled at each other. But I think we’re okay now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you ever think about quitting?”

“Never.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. To sing and perform. To be up there with my best friends. It’s always been worth it,” Richie sounds at ease when he talks about the band. “And if I wasn’t who I am, I probably never would have met you, you know? And that hurts to think about. You keep me going.”

Eddie smiles into the phone, even though he knows Richie can’t see him.

“I get worried, Rich. That you only like me because I’m ordinary.”

“Well I worry that you only like me because I’m not ordinary. People don’t like my life. They don’t like staying here. It’s not for everyone.” Richie lowers his voice like he’s about to say something he doesn’t really want Eddie to hear, “I’m not for everyone.”

“Of course not.”

“I mean it.”

“‘Chee,” Eddie says, his voice soft. “I just want you to know, that I want to know you, and that I’m going to be here for you.”

“I like that. I like that when I’m with you, it’s just us in the room. I don’t have to pretend around you.”

“I feel the same.”

Eddie can hear Richie yawn on the other line. “Thanks for sticking around, Eds.”

“No problem.”

“I’m going back to New York tomorrow with the boys.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Rehearsals for the mini concert in Maine are starting.”

“So I guess that’s the next time I’ll see you,” Eddie tries not to let sadness color his voice.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’ll try not to miss you too much.”

“Same goes here, Spaghetti Man,” he can hear the smile in Richie’s voice. “I’m always missing my Eds.”

This time Eddie is the one to yawn. He’s tired, but he doesn’t want to hang up. Not yet. It’s nice to know that although Richie’s not here, he’s _here_.

He focuses on listening to Richie’s breathing until it evens out, and he knows Richie’s fallen asleep.

“Night, ‘Chee.”


	16. breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied. Happy Thanksgiving, here's a new chapter !!
> 
> Can't wait to sit on the couch and read fanfictions while my family watches football !!1!1!

The night of the concert is sticky from humidity and everything smells like rain. Eddie doesn’t want to drive on the slippery roads, so Bev takes the wheel, insisting that rain nor snow nor sleet nor hail will prevent them from going to this event.

In other words, she’s hellbent on meeting Ben.

Everyone at the concert is either working, or a girl. The guy standing at the door who’s holding the list of who can get in looks vaguely panicked at the sea of girls before him.

Premiering the new single and a surprise music video was the official cover story for the impromptu occasion, but Eddie can hear rumors bubbling up as he and bev walk along the line, heading for the front.

**just walk in when you get here, k ?** Richie had texted earlier.  **some1 will bring u backstage :-)**

It’s been two weeks since he saw him last, and it feels like all Eddie’s done is miss him and mope.

When they get to the man with the clipboard, Eddie sees why the line is so long: no one is allowed to bring a phone into the venue. He’s hoping backstage access will exempt them from the phone rule, but it doesn’t. A security guard takes his and Bev’s phones while another guard radios for someone to come collect ‘the short guy and the girl with red hair.’

Their escort leads them through a mostly empty venue with a vast stage. The band’s instruments are pre-set.

Backstage is all industrial and anonymous. Their guide leaves them in a greenroom without saying a word.

_ I’m supposed to belong here,  _ Eddie reminds himself.

The band isn’t around so he doesn’t know anyone. There are a handful of record exec dads with teenage daughters and some guys Eddie recognizes from Instagram. Scanning quickly over the room, he almost misses the two girls huddled up in a corner together, laughing, bright and easy. Sabrina and Patty.

Eddie stops walking so abruptly that Bev stumbles behind him.

“Woah,” she says. “You okay?”

“Sabrina,” Eddie whispers. “She’s here.”

“Shit. Where?”

Eddie uses his eyes to gesture to the corner where the two are. Bev squints at them for a moment.

“What does this mean? Do you want to leave?”

Eddie shakes his head. It would look worse if he flees.

Of course Sabrina is here. She’s here because she belongs in this corner of the world. She belongs in Richie and the band’s public lives. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s all definitely, totally fine!

“Eddie, you’re turning blue. Please breathe.”

“I’m trying!”

“Obviously not hard enough.”

Eddie can’t stop staring. Sabrina catches his eye. She must be used to it, because she gives him a sliver of a smile and looks away, easy and casual, before the recognition registers on her face. She looks back. Her smile seems genuine this time, and she waves to him and mouths, “Hey!”

There’s no choice now but to walk over and say hi. “Fantastic,” Eddie mumbles to himself.

Sabrina is whip-thin, of course, but lanky, with long legs, long blonde hair, and impossibly long eyelashes. She looks endearingly low-key in a white T-shirt and ripped jeans.

“You’re Eddie right? I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Yeah, hi. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

Sabrina smiles brightly. “So you’re going to college in the fall, right? Richie mentioned he was helping you shop for things.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so cool! Patty here is talking about applying to the New York Fashion Institute next year. Right, Pat?”

Patty shrugs. “I want to, but they don’t accept many people.”

Bev smiles widely at Patty. “That’s actually where I’m starting!”

Patty’s eyes widen. “Really?” Bev nods in response. “Maybe you can give me some tips on how to get in.”

“I’d be happy to!”

“Oh, right,” Eddie points at Bev. “This is my best friend, Beverly.”

The girls say hi.

The escort who brought them in pokes his head into the greenroom and calls out, “Five minutes until showtime!”

“Oh, excellent!” Sabrina looks thrilled. “Hey Eddie, you wanna go see your man in action?”

“Yeah,” Eddie finds it in him to smile. “Definitely.”


	17. are you with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is mainly tea spillage lmao

After the show, the greenroom crowd seems to swell considerably. There are more girls, more men dressed in business suits, more people trying to catch glimpses of the band that’s being surrounded by congratulations and hearty laughs and intimate looking pats on the back.

It seems to take forever to cross the room, but when Eddie and Richie finally meet halfway, Eddie gets swept up in a tight hug that pulls him right off his feet.

“You were amazing, Rich. That was- that was so great.”

Richie kisses the top of Eddie’s head.

“It felt fucking amazing to be on the stage again.”

Eddie grins, pulling away from the hug to hold Richie’s hands. “Good!”

 

It takes an hour for the crowd in the small room to thin down. Eddie and Bev talk to Ben for a while; Ben and Bev flirt the whole time, so Eddie is eternally grateful when Richie appears behind him and wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist. Richie hooks his chin over the smaller boy’s shoulder, and rocks them back and forth.

“You ready to get the hell out of here?”

“Yeah, if you are.”

“I think the party’s going back to Mike’s place, you in?”

“Of course.”

 

Mike’s house is in a state of barely controlled chaos when they arrive.

The majority of people are in the living room. Patty and Bill are standing next to an open window, smoking something that’s obviously not just a cigarette. Patty has a bottle of vodka clutched tightly in her hand, and when he thinks no one’s looking, Bill takes a swig out of it. Stan and Mike are lounging on the couch, laughing at something Mike’s playing on his phone. The bathroom door down the hall is open and past it, Sabrina is fussing with her hair.

When the four walk in, Mike pulls his knees up to make room on the couch, and Richie sits down next to him.

“Tell me stories about Eds,” Richie says to Bev. “How long have you known him?”

“Since second grade. We were paired up for a science project.”

“Bill and I were reading partners in first grade,” Mike says.

“F-for the record, it’s not my f-fault that Michael is f-f-functionally illiterate,” Bill pipes up. He makes his way to the couch, leaving Patty at the window. Standing beside the couch, he nudges Stan’s thigh with his knee. “Scoot, dude.”

“There’s no room!”

Bill laughs, and drops himself on top of Stan. “G-guess I’ll j-just have to make room.”

Eddie almost chokes on his own tongue.

“You’re so heavy,” Stan grumbles.

“You love it,” Bill reminds him.

Eddie can see the bugged-out eyes Bev is giving him.

“Bill, Stan, kiss!” Mike cries. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

“No,” Bill says.

Stan rolls his eyes at him. “Honey, don’t be shy.” He grins and grabs Bill’s chin, pulling him into a deep, swooning kiss.

But then he lets go of him so suddenly that Bill tumbles to the floor.

Stan touches his fingertips to his lips and looks at them, expecting to see a stain to mark what Eddie realizes must be the taste of alcohol on Bill’s breath.

The room has fallen into a shocked silence. Bev’s eyes dart back-and-forth from Eddie to Bill, who’s on the floor with his hands held up and reaching for Stan.

“You promised,” Stan says. “You said-”

“Stan, b-baby, can we d-do this somewhere else?”

“ _This?_ I’m not doing _this_ anymore. We had a deal!” Stan pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head up to hold tears in. “Not here. Not anywhere, anymore. I’m done, Bill.”

He takes a band out of his pocket, a simple, silver ring, and hands it to Bill.

“The engagement is off. Mike doesn’t have to cover for us anymore.”

Stan manages to leave without making anything dramatic out of it.

Bill collapses in on himself.

Richie looks apologetically at Mike and Bev and Eddie, and then at the rest of the partygoers.

“Okay,” he says softly. He gets up and leans down next to Bill. “C’mon man, let’s go find a room where we can have a chat. Leave these guys to the party.”

“R-right. Can’t have Bill at a p-party,” Bill says. “Can’t let him see anyone d-drinking, heaven f-f-forbid, Bill can’t control himself around a d-drink. Sure, g-go ahead. P-put me somewhere. Lock me away. I’m almost done causing t-trouble f-for tonight, anyway.”


	18. into your arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a twitter but i have nothing interesting to tweet because i'm boring

“So, how long have Stan and Bill been together?”

“A while,” Richie’s spread out across the bed in the guest room, his eyes are closed but his glasses are still on. Eddie reaches over and takes his glasses off, placing them on the nightstand.

“What’s the thing with Mike?”

Richie sighs tiredly. “Girls love the idea of him and Stan together. We aim to please the fans.”

“But Mike’s been so convincing. I genuinely believed him and Stan were together.”

“I know,” Richie flips onto his side to face Eddie. “I think he started to believe they were together, too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think Mike fell for Stan.”

“Do you feel bad for him?”

“Of course I feel bad for him. I know what it’s like to fall in love with someone you can’t have.”

“So do I,” Eddie turns into Richie, tucking his knees into his chest. “I’m tired, ‘Chee.”

“Me too, Eds,” he kisses Eddie’s forehead and reaches across him to turn the light off.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to fall asleep wrapped in Richie’s arms.

 

Eddie wakes to someone knocking on the bedroom door. Richie’s still asleep, so Eddie gets up. When he opens the door, Bev is standing in the hallway, zombie-eyed. She still has pillow marks on her cheeks.

Ben stands beside her, his arms holding their shoes and jackets.

“It’s time for you to go,” he says.

“What?”

“I’ve been given orders to get you out of here.”

“What?” Eddie repeats. “Why?”

“There was a confession from Bill. On the night of the party, he saw you taking the pictures of Stan and Mike.”

Eddie’s stomach starts churning. “I don’t- I have no idea-”

Bev makes a noise that sounds like a strangled cry. Ben grabs her arm gently, steering her down the hallway.

“I’ll escort you both downstairs.”

Eddie wants to go back and curl up with Richie again. He wants to wake him up and explain. He wants to let Richie know that he never meant for this to happen. He wants to cry and beg for forgiveness.

But would Richie forgive him? Could Richie forgive him?

Better to leave him here. Better to let him sleep. He’s going to have a shit-storm to wake up to.

Ben lets Eddie go back in the room to grab his phone off the charger. Back in the hallway, he pauses long enough to hear the door fall shut behind him.

_ Click. _

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles to no one in particular. “I’m so so sorry.”


	19. not over you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went to the sketchiest Cumberland Farms today, but hey, at least the coffee was good

Ben emails Eddie.  **We need to talk to you. Can you come by Mike’s place this weekend?**

Eddie has no idea what’s going on with The Losers Club; the rest of the mini-tour dates have been cancelled, and they don’t seem to be recording. All he knows is that he’ll do anything the band asks him to. That much hasn’t changed.

He sends back,  _ Of course. _

 

Stan opens the door, looking more relaxed than Eddie’s ever seen him. He’s barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. When Eddie really looks, though, his face is wary, and the line of his shoulders is high and tense.

“Hello,” Stan says, and he steps aside to let Eddie in. He turns and starts walking. “Bill and Ben are waiting in the living room.”

Eddie hurries after him, the door slamming shut loudly behind them.

He can’t help speaking into the silence that follows. “So you guys are hanging out in Maine for a while?”

“Mike’s living here with Richie for now,” Stan says. He takes a seat and gestures for Eddie to do the same. Then he says, “They’re both out right now.”

“Okay.”

“We don’t want to hear your side of the story. We’re not interested in the made up things you led your friend to believe about my relationship with Mike.”

Bill is sitting next to Stan, his eyes are apologetic as he looks at Eddie. Ben stands next to him, refusing to look anywhere near Eddie’s direction.

He never meant to hurt anyone. He never meant to have the pictures go anywhere.

“I need to know that you’re not going to out us,” Stan says, referring to his relationship with Bill. “I need to know that whatever happens next, you’re going to sit on this information.”

“I’ll sign an NDA, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s enough for Bill. It’s not enough for me.”

“What would be?”

“I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me- promise me- that you’re going to leave us alone.”

“I have been leaving you alone.”

“That’s what Richie says. I don’t like the way he looks when he says it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Stan d-doesn’t t-trust his j-j-judgement b-because Richie’s still head over heels f-for you,” Bill says, a sad smile gracing his features briefly.

Eddie has to ask, “Are you going to be okay?”

Bill looks at him steadily. “I’m g-going to r-rehab.”

“So the tour is postponed?”

Stan speaks up again. “The tour is cancelled. The album is cancelled.”

“And the band?”

“What do you think, Eddie?”

He wants to ask if it’s his fault, but he now knows that this has been a long time coming. He happened to come along when threads were starting to fray.

“It’s different, right?” Stan says. “When you see what the consequences really look like. When you’re not just eating up whatever story the tabloids are feeding you.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

“I’m trying to make you understand.”

“I loved them. More than anything, I loved him.”

“I know.”

“No,” Eddie snaps. “You don’t.”

He can feel the tears building up, but he doesn’t want Stan to see him cry. That would make this whole situation a hundred times worse than it already is.

The front door opens and shuts again. “Hey!” Richie calls. “Ho-ney, I’m ho-ome!”

Stan is already standing, and motioning for Eddie to stay where he is.

“Hey,” he calls back. “I’m just-”

Before Stan can get to him, Richie is striding into the living room. He’s wearing sweats, and a Metallica T-shirt, and his glasses that magnify the golden specks in his eyes, carrying a plastic bag from Tobey’s Grocery. His eyes are slightly red-ringed, and the bags under his eyes are starting to look permanent. Eddie wants to run to him. He wants to wrap Richie in his arms and make sure he gets some sleep.

Richie stops in his tracks when he sees Eddie. His grip on the bag tightens, and Eddie can see his knuckles turning white.

“What’s he doing here? Stan, what’s going on?”

“Ben invited him. We just wanted to talk to him. Make sure he wasn’t going to-”

“We talked about this.”

“I needed to be sure.”

“And are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Richie says. “Now get him the hell out of here.”

Richie gives Eddie a looks that’s like weather crossing his face. There’s anger in his eyes, but also a softness that Eddie can’t put his finger on. Like Bill said, he’s still head over heels.

“I’m so sorry, Richie,” Eddie can’t stop the tear that rolls down his cheek. “I made a mistake. A huge mistake.”

“Yeah? Well, at least we have that in common.” He points in the direction of the front door, “Please go, Eds.”

 

He’s out the front door, tears falling freely, when Richie calls after him. “Wait! Just- hang on for a second!”

“Okay.” Eddie turns, facing him.

“Why did you do it?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s it?”

“I wanted to prove to my friend that this was actually happening, that I was no longer nobody,” Eddie is ashamed to admit it.

“Being like everybody is the same as being nobody, Eds. Remember that next time.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. “There won’t be a next time, Rich.”


	20. miss you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today has been the longest day e v e r

Richie changed his number.

A recorded voice tells Eddie when he calls that the number he has dialed is no longer in service. It feels like Eddie’s already broken heart cracks just a little bit more.

The boys all seem to have gone missing on social media.

There hasn’t been any announcement one way or another about The Losers Club’s future. A tiny part of Eddie believes this means something is happening- they’re negotiating new deals, or figuring out another way to keep themselves relevant. They could probably tour without Bill if they had to.

The rest of him knows that the band’s hiatus is immutable. It’s something they’d all been walking around on eggshells, and now that everything’s out in the open, it’s unavoidable.

One week after Eddie last sees him, Richie is photographed walking out of a recording studio in Los Angeles with a nineteen-year-old rock star named Willa Keys. The press speculates that she’s his newest love interest.

Of course Richie is on to the next project already, the next person already. And he probably does like Willa. He likes most people. That’s one of the secrets to his charm.

Even if he doesn’t, it makes sense that he’s pulling the attention towards himself again, shouldering the blame for the band’s breakup. There’s no near resolution, or happy ending, but at least he can take the fall for his bandmates one last time.

None of this masks the sharp, specific pain Eddie feels when he imagines Richie sitting at parties with Willa, or maybe hanging out in her seaside LA apartment. There’s a pain from knowing that he’s keeping company with someone new.

The next day, photos of the two of them smiling at a pool party show up online. Richie is wearing his usual cool-boy smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

He has a new tattoo on his bicep, shadowed by the sleeve of his shirt.

They aren’t speaking, technically, but Eddie texts Bev, anyway.

_I really need to talk to someone_

Ten minutes later, he gets back, **I don’t know what u want me to say**

**I don’t know who the hell u are anymore.**

_I’m the same person_

**U kept things from me.**

_You spread the pictures!_

**…**

**Touché**

**Continue**

_I’m just so lost Bev_

_I don’t know what’s happening anymore_

_What happened was big_

**I know**

**U need to take some u time**

_You’re not wrong_

**Of course**

_I miss him_

_I miss Richie_

_What we had could have been something_

_There was promise, and possibility_

_I was falling for him_

**I know**

_It hurts_

**I know**


	21. one day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end !!! yay ?  
> writing this whole story was really fun and I hope I get inspiration for a sequel soon :')

Direct Message from  **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

August 21, 2:06 am

**cute username.**

 

Direct Message from  **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

2:07 am

**this doesn’t mean we’re friends, btw.**

 

Direct Message from  **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

2:07 am

**i just like the username.**

 

Direct Message from  **@eddienoteds** to  **@realrichietozier**

August 21, 11:09 am

_ Okay. _

 

Direct Message from  **@eddienoteds** to  **@realrichietozier**

11:11 am

_ For the record though, I’m really sorry.  _

 

Direct Message from  **@eddienoteds** to  **@realrichietozier**

11:11 am

_ If you wanted to be friends, I’d be down for that. _

 

Direct Message from **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

August 21, 12:15 pm

**we were friends.**

 

Direct Message from **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

12:16 pm

**actually, fuck that.**

 

Direct Message from **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

12:16 pm

**we were a lot more than friends.**

 

Direct Message from  **@eddienoteds** to  **@realrichietozier**

August 21, 1:00 pm

_ Until I screwed up. I know. _

 

Direct Message from  **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

August 21, 1:34 pm

**doesn’t make me miss u any less.**

 

Direct Message from  **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

August 21, 1:34 pm

**i think that’s the worst part about all of this.**

 

Direct Message from **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

1:38 pm

**r u home?**

 

Direct Message from  **@eddienoteds** to  **@realrichietozier**

August 21, 1:38 pm

_ I think you know the answer to that. _

 

Direct Message from  **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

August 21, 1:43 p.m.

**i’ll b there in fifteen minutes**

 

Direct Message from  **@realrichietozier** to  **@eddienoteds**

1:43 p.m.

**unlock ur bedroom window**

 

_ Read 1:46 p.m. _

 

He’s wearing sunglasses. That’s the first thing Eddie registers when Richie crawls through his window. They make his face look narrower than usual, or maybe he’s just lost weight since Eddie saw him last.

“Hi, Eds.”

He waits, but Richie doesn’t say anything else. He just stands there, staring Eddie down, as he takes his sunglasses off.

So Eddie says, “None of this was ever supposed to happen.”

“How did you think it was going to end?”

“I didn’t think it was going to end, because I never expected it to start.”

Richie cocks his head at him, gazing like a sparrow. He’s definitely lost weight. He’s too thin. Eddie can see the blades of his shoulders through his shirt when he walks across the room to sit on the edge of Eddie’s bed.

“I was so fucking mad at you,” Richie says.

Eddie goes and sits facing him from the floor. He looks blank.

“I’m  _ still  _ mad at you. I kept thinking I would stop caring. That I would stop being mad. But it never seems to go away.”

“Do you want to yell at me?”

“No. Never.”

“Okay,” Eddie is confused. “Why did you want to see me, then?”

“I don’t know. It’s been awful without you.” Richie lowers his head into his hands, and lets out a choked sob. “I woke up, and you were gone. It was like you weren’t there to begin with.”

“Who told you what happened?” Eddie asks.

“Ben. On the phone. He sounded- He was  _ crushed _ .”

“I guess he actually liked me, huh.”

“Ben cared for you. He cared for me, too.”

“I’m sure he still does. Care for you, I mean. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive what I did.”

Richie wipes at his eyes. 

“I tried to call you,” Eddie says. “After everything.”

“I didn’t answer.”

“Yeah,” Eddie answers so softly, he doesn’t think Richie registers that he’s spoken.

“Stan told me not to pick up. Told me it wasn’t worth it, that you’d probably just drag me into another lie.”

“I wasn’t calling to lie to you,” Eddie protests. “I was calling to explain. I was going to apologize for lying in the first place.”

“I think I knew that, but I was just so hurt, Eds. I couldn’t believe you were behind all of that.”

“I never should have sent those photos to Bev.”

The room is quiet. Richie is chewing on his lip, staring fixedly at the wall behind Eddie.

“Come here,” he says, abruptly.

“What?”

Richie scooches over to the edge of the bed and gestures with one hand. “Here. Come here.”

Eddie navigates the climb awkwardly. He doesn’t know what this means. He settles himself on his back, and Richie curls himself along his side.

“Can we just talk, Eds? We can figure everything else out in a minute, but, can we just pretend like everything’s normal for a second?”

Eddie nods, threading his fingers through Richie’s hair.

“Tell me: did you ever finish shopping for college?”

“Kind of,” Eddie says. “You know. Not really.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie can’t help himself. “You and Willa?”

“Never. There’s only one person on my mind right now.”

“Me?”

“How’d you know?”

Eddie laughs quietly. “Lucky guess.”

“Yeah. Real lucky.”

He’s missed this more than anything. The banter between him and Richie makes it almost too easy to fall back into believing that things never went south.

“Eds, can I move with you?” Richie’s voice is unusually soft, and he looks up at Eddie with pleading eyes.

“What?”

“When you go away to college, can I move with you? You’re going to Ohio, right?”

“Gambier.”

“Great! Gambier! The dorms probably suck, right?”

“I mean, they’re average.”

“Picture this, though: we could get a house. I could write songs about your eyes and how feisty you get when I joke about your mom. Everyone could come visit us, and we’d have a dog. You could teach me how to cook!”

“I don’t really know how to cook,” Eddie admits.

“Even better. I’d teach myself how to cook and surprise you at the end of each day with something new and terrible.”

The idea is fresh and bright on Richie’s face. He’s gleaming with it.

“We can figure out who we are. And who we want to be. Ohio is small, people would hardly notice a boyband member and a cute guy!”

For a minute, Eddie lets the fantasy consume him. 

The two of them in a world of their own.

The fantasy feels good, but it also feels impossible. Because what Richie is talking about is the two of them hiding. Hiding from truth, and reality, and the harshness of society.

Eddie would never be enough to keep him happy.

“I can’t,” he says. “We can’t.”

“We can. We could, if we-”

“This isn’t a joke, Rich. We’re talking about our actual lives here.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“I don’t know what you think!”

“ _ I _ barely know what I think! But I know that I like you a whole fucking lot, and that I’d be willing to try to live a regular life with you.”

“You hardly know me, Rich.”

“But I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“What if you realize you don’t like me?”

“That would never happen.”

“You can’t promise that,” Eddie says. “And I hate not knowing what’s going to happen.”

Richie lets his head sag on Eddie’s chest.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Go to college. Figure myself out,” Eddie strokes Richie’s cheek. “What are  _ you _ going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Eddie says. “And then you should come to Ohio.”

“You’ll definitely have graduated by then. You’ll probably have grandchildren by then.”

“I have faith in you, ‘Chee,” Eddie whispers. “Faith. That’s something I can give you.”

“That,” Richie says, “is maybe the only thing I can give you back.”

“Can you promise that you’ll find me when you figure everything out?” Eddie holds out his pinky.

Richie chuckles, and hooks his pinky with Eddie’s. “I promise.”

“So is this goodbye until then?”

“Yeah,” Richie says, disentangling himself from Eddie and sitting up.

“Goodbye until then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments?  
> Questions?  
> Concerns?


End file.
